


Where You Go I Follow

by Mayblume



Category: Naruto
Genre: 1920s, 1950s, Across Space and Time, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, M/M, Naruto Sci-Fi Week 2019, Romance, Science Fiction, Time Travel, Timey-Wimey, Too many decades to tag, Violence, think the time traveler's wife meets doctor who
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-16 09:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21505813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayblume/pseuds/Mayblume
Summary: Decades of work reach their conclusion when Kakuzu completes his first jump through time. Yet the machine frequently malfunctions, taking him to places he did not intend to go.But worst of all, the same guy seems to be waiting for him wherever andwhenenverhe goes, and Kakuzu can't explain why this keeps happening - but he is determined to find out.
Relationships: Hidan/Kakuzu (Naruto)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 49
Collections: Naruto Sci-fi Week 2019





	Where You Go I Follow

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt "an immortal being and a time traveler that keep running into each other throughout different periods of history".

The machine rose to life beneath his fingertip and coated the walls of the laboratory in an eerie shade of blue. 

Today was the day. The day of his first jump. The day of his death. The day of his unexplained disappearance. Unfortunately, only time could tell which one was the correct answer. He’d be smarter in the evening. Or dead. Or stuck in the 1950’s. 

One of these options was decidedly worse than the others. 

Slowly, stealthily, his gaze snuck off towards the cylindrical machine in the middle of the room, dominating it with its size and height and blinking lights. It vibrated steadily beneath his feet, electricity roaring through metallic veins. 

The door was gaping open, awaiting him. Prepared to devour him whole. 

Kakuzu swallowed. 

All his pets had returned with their bodies and minds intact. The corpses hadn’t had a mind that could have been driven to madness. Should he have reconsidered the benefits of a human guinea pig? 

No, if he was to succeed, his invention would quickly turn him into the richest, most influential man on the planet and he did not want a first-degree murder charge standing between him and unimaginable riches. 

But much stronger than reason was the question burning in the back of his skull, equally depressing and invigorating -- what did he have to lose?  
Kakuzu stepped before a large mirror mounted against the wall, checking his clothing once more. 

It had been a pain in the ass to get hold of period-appropriate clothes in a wearable condition in his size and had cost a fortune. But a lot was at stake at his first jump and Kakuzu was nothing if not thorough. 

He rolled his sleeves down and buttoned them to at least hide the scars on his arms. Concealing the scars on his face had proved to be impossible, although with some luck he wouldn't be the only one wearing a Glasgow smile at the sleazy place he picked for his first visit.

Stepping before the mouth of the machine, Kakuzu forgot to breathe. His palms were sweaty, and he dried them on his ridiculously expensive trousers. A muscle in his cheek twitched as he clenched his jaw, standing impossibly still, his frame tense with fear. 

The bone-deep vibrations of the machine consumed his whole body until it was impossible to tell whether he was shaking with nerves or oscillating in time with the apparatus. The feeling made him want to crawl out of his skin. 

Then Kakuzu took a deep breath and a step forward. 

He exhaled into the cold air of 1952. 

And stepped into a puddle. One small puddle for man, one giant leap for mankind. Kakuzu grunted, not in the mood for irony, and leaned against the nearest wall to free his shoe of mud. The first time travel in history was off to a great start. 

It was a windy, gray November day in 1952 and Kakuzu had not been able to find a coat, so he was eager to step into the bar around the corner of the small alley he had chosen for his arrival. A brisk pace, a quick drink, maybe a brief talk and he’d be on his way back to the future. 

As the warmth and noise of the establishment engulfed him, his senses overwhelmed by people dancing and yelling and laughing, the full weight of the past minutes hit him with full force. 

He made it. This was fully and truly the fifties.

The sudden rush of the realization nearly knocked him off his feet. Bracing himself against the casing of the door, Kakuzu was exceedingly glad a drink was on his to-do list. He really needed one right now. 

The smell of alcohol and cheap perfume hung heavy in the air, right next to clouds of cigarette smoke that made it hard to breathe. Both dimmed the light to a sickly, grey yellow that mirrored the weather outside the wooden walls. 

Kakuzu approached the bar and ordered a whiskey, neat. Quickly downed it and asked for a refill. He had just risked his life for the advancement of science and more importantly, his own wealth – he deserved to indulge himself a little. 

Taking a lot more time with his second drink, he let his eyes roam across the room. As Kakuzu watched a group of men trying to cheat each other in a game of cards, he slowly sipped the brown liquid, trying to come to terms with the fact that he had jumped through time. 

Alcohol and understanding burned equally strong in his throat. 

His attention was torn away from a man in a dirty vest with an ace of spades peeking out of his sleeve when an attractive young man came to a halt in front of him. The cocky smile on his face promised trouble and the scab on his knuckles told Kakuzu that the man intended to keep that promise. 

“Come on snake, let’s rattle,” he prompted Kakuzu with thumbs tugged into the pockets of his trousers and a jerk of his head towards the large empty space in the middle of the bar. 

A challenge.

As inconspicuously as possible, Kakuzu looked around the room, surveying the faces of the other men around him. Had he been singled out as a stranger? No. None of the other patrons of this questionable establishment seemed eager to pick a fight with him. His imposing stature and frightful scars certainly helped in that matter. 

Only this guy seemed dumb enough to pick a fight with him. 

Maybe when push came to shove, he had a group of friends backing him up . However, Kakuzu was not interested in dying by the hands of a rowdy mob of youngsters. He decided to end this swiftly and straight up decked the other man. 

One hit square in the jaw and the instigator was knocked to the ground, staring up at him incredulously. His eyes were wide with surprise and hurt. Kakuzu had expected neither of these emotions. The guy had literally asked for a fight and now he resembled a dog whose tail had been stepped on. 

A small trickle of red shone in the twilight of the badly illuminated bar. The young man wiped the fluid off his face, examining the blood smeared across his thumb. 

"What the hell was that for?" he asked, deep voice rumbling with anger. 

"You explicitly asked for it,” Kakuzu explained calmly. 

“I was asking you to dance, asshole!” 

_Oh._

Kakuzu’s lips tightened. His guide to the slang of the 50s had told him the opposite. 

"Well, be clearer next time." 

In some way, this kind of invitation was even more surprising. Kakuzu inspected the man lying before his feet. The carefully groomed hair, now disheveled. The strong jaw, now slightly swollen. 

Suspenders in the color of blood and a shirt unbuttoned so far that it had to be indecent even in this kind of establishment. Broad shoulders. A small comb sitting in the pocket of his shirt, undoubtedly for the aforementioned grooming. Muscular forearms keeping him upright. 

Kakuzu would have to be blind not to be tempted. 

But – he couldn’t. They had already drawn too much attention to themselves, and half of the bar already stole hidden glances at them every now and then. There was no question that they were being carefully monitored. 

“The answer remains the same.” 

That glint of hurt again, quickly covered up with a smug grin. 

Deliberately nonchalant, the white-haired man rose to his feet and brushed the dirt off of his clothes. “Your loss.” 

Watching him walk away, suspenders accentuating a broad back rigid with tension and a white shirt mirroring white hair, Kakuzu thought it just might be. 

The crowd parted to let the man leave and closed behind him like tar, swallowing him whole. 

Kakuzu looked at his hand, which gently throbbed with pain, and abruptly left the bar, activating the device to return to the present before he reached the quiet of the back alley where he first landed. 

This was going to leave a mark.

**Author's Note:**

> The rattlesnake joke is [from tumblr](https://steampunkepsilon.tumblr.com/post/161127530724/bassiter-while-looking-up-1950s-slang-i-found) and I just had to include the "Invite your crush to the dance floor, but instead they just fuckin deck you."
> 
> Thank you for reading! Each chapter will be a new jump through time and space as Kakuzu goes further and further back in history (and forward into the future) to find out why he Keeps. Running. Into. This. Bastard. 
> 
> Please feel free to request a place, time, or major event that you want these two idiots to struggle with/fall in love/fight in! Everything after ca. 1500 is fair game. I can't promise that it will make it into the fic, but I'll do my best!


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